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Mr. Jack Daniels

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“Come here,” he whispered, more desperately this time. “Please?”
He didn’t wait for a response, nor did he wait for a reaction. He pulled her in closer, until he could taste her gold-leafed perfume at the tip of his tongue. But he wasn’t satisfied with just that. He wanted to taste more. In fact, he wanted to taste everything, and nothing would stop him from achieving just that.
“No,” she moaned in defense, valiantly attempting to preserve her modesty, though fate prescribed she should fail from the start. She tried to push away, but his subtle grip kept her right in place, right where he wanted her.
Silly girl, she should have known. Once a woman steps onto the side with Mr. Jack Daniels, reputation is worthless. She is worth only what he wants her to be worth. In the corner, Mr. Jack Daniels is king, and the she-race of this world is his pawn.
“You’re always running away, every time you think you might be feeling something,” he said, holding onto her, and thus the mind games begin. It was his first and favorite tact, control of the psyche.
“No, it’s nothing like that,” she said, quick to justify. “I’m just—well—careful.”
Careful, that word has its own history stored in the back of her eyes, but of course, Mr. Jack Daniels looks not towards the soul but towards the buttons of his ladies’ pants. However, he wasn’t put off by her remark. He knew his game, and he knew his prey even better than they knew themselves. As for being careful, well, that was just another term he could manipulate. You see, Mr. Jack Daniels has a way with words.
“And that’s your problem, dear,” whispers the devil. “Always being careful. Always shielding yourself. Always alone.”
Immediately, she froze in his grip, and he struggled to hide his knowing grin.
And there we have it, the magic word, the perfect chord to make his next meal tick. His poor, little lamb was lonely, but never fear, Mr. Jack Daniels would fix that. He would make sure of it.
“I don’t want that for you,” he continued. “When will you realize that not everyone’s out to get you?”
And he’s right. Not everyone’s out to get her, but he sure is. The strategist had his lines memorized, repeated over and over again, night after night, successful. And so she broke, like so many others before her.
“I don’t want that either,” she admitted, voice cracking, and putting her arms around his neck, she was the one to instigate the next move. She crept in closer, and the wolf got his fangs to her neck, the most compromising position of all.
“I want you,” she cried. Her overwhelming emotion was evident, a fact not lost upon our villain.
“I want you too,” he said, and before she could get another word in, he kissed her, long and hard, forced into her melting core. Easier than he thought, but the victory was still the same.
He led her away from the alley, hand-in-hand as they walked into the night. To any onlooker, they simply appeared two, twenty year olds, crazy with lust, yet as fate would have it, the next time anyone looked upon Miss Mary, she would be in the forest, lying on her back, dead and so very alone.
By the time the police found her, Mr. Jack Daniels was sitting in the club, his hand on Miss Leslie’s thigh, and into her ear, he whispered, “I want you too.”





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